Happy Thighs

I'm seriously fat, guys.
Like really. Even my "fat shorts" don't fit. Arms, face and all, they seem okay, but my midsection is like a round ball. And no, I'm not pregnant. No fetus in the world could survive my alcohol intake. My baby will see pink elepants for MONTHS in development. And yes, I'll stop drinking when I find out I'm pregnant. I'll stop smoking, too. Hey! I might even stop mainlining crack. You never know! I'm kinda committed that way. Well, except for reading a lot and being decidedly democratic. I might force those two things on my kids. Isn't that my priority?? As a parent? Shape the young minds like you want 'em!

But let's talk about fat shorts for a bit. Out of all the "fat clothes" a woman may posess, these "fat shorts" are key. Shorts in general are destructive items for us fat girls. Skirts? Done. Nylons are my best friend. Long skirts? DONE. Low cut blouse and a lot of eye makeup.

But there's really no hiding your weight in shorts. I have dimples upon dimples, happy indicators where I had never really wanted emotions. My butt, midsection and thighs are constantly announcing to me, "I'm SMILING!! WOO."

Yeah, woo. Get fucking UN-happy for a bit, thunderwands.

The thing is.......I'm getting married in a couple of months. And I think for about 90% of the female population, that translates into an insane effort to drop the weight and be a size 2 for the wedding. Well, here's the thing. If I were a size two, I'd drop off of the face of the earth. No seriously, I'd be like a walking tongue depressor. I'm too tall. (an excuse that has held me in good stead for years and I'm not giving it up now.....)

And the second thing is my fiance. He's that rare kind of guy that is either blind or truly in love. He loves me. He's never asked me to lose weight and anytime I point out how much MORE of me there is lately, he just rolls his eyes and then tells me again that I am beautiful. And here's the real kicker. I believe him. I believe that what he sees when he looks at me is beauty.

And then I toddle off, marvel a bit, and drink some bourbon. (Hello THIGHS! Meet Bourbon! I think you two might be related....)